


clandestine

by tsunderestorm



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 07:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8154260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: Merlin sneaks out of Camelot to meet Gwaine at a pub on the city's outskirts because they just can't stand to be apart.





	

Merlin finds the note on Gaius’ workbench the moment he walks in the door. It calls out to him like some sort of glowing beacon and when he picks it up it burns like fire on his fingertips. It’s his name scrawled in familiar handwriting on the front, ( _Merlin_ , _darling_ ) and when he opens it the words are as he had hoped, only half-dared to expect: _The Drunken Lion, 10 o’clock._ Gwaine, then. Excellent.

Smiling, he tucks the note into his shirt pocket and goes about his chores. There’s a renewed vigor in the way he cleans out leech tank, in the way he arranges the glass vials on the shelves. Ingredients alphabetized, because the extra effort is a way to pass the time before the anticipation kills him. He knows the pub the note mentions: it’s dark, quiet, and best of all the tavern master knows how to keep his mouth shut. It’s the perfect place to meet Gwaine – far enough outside of the city that he isn’t _really_ breaking Uther’s order but close enough that Merlin doesn’t have to go far creeping through shadows and plastering his skinny body to the backs of buildings to avoid being seen.

It’s as familiar as ever when he walks in, arranged exactly as it was two weeks ago, dimly lit exactly as it had been three weeks before that. Just the same as three months prior, when he’d stayed so late curled up in Gwaine’s embrace that he’d missed Arthur’s breakfast _and_ lunch.

“Merlin,” Gwaine breathes as he slots up behind him, the accompanying piece of a perfectly formed puzzle. His hands move immediately to Merlin’s skinny waist, rucking up his shirt and thumbing over the bones. He mouths over the skin beneath Merlin’s ear as he nuzzles into his neck, stubble rubbing against the skin and flushing it hot and tender. “My darling, my love, my – “

Merlin swivels around so he’s looking into Gwaine’s eyes, bright with mischief in the firelight and warm with drink. Loose lips, relaxed limbs; easy and handsome. Gwaine’s hands are still rubbing, stroking; worrying at his hips so the pads of his thumbs set the nerves on fire. Merlin can control the last of the Great Dragons, can work a spell he’s never done before at the last moment possible, can even stare down magical creatures twice his age and thrice as powerful but gods help him, he still goes weak in the knees for Gwaine.

His lips are hot as hell on Merlin’s ear, licking around the shell of it until Merlin shivers. “Pretty pet, come to bed,” Gwaine says hotly. “I bought myself a room here for the night.” Merlin wants to, he needs to, he _will_. He’ll stay, like he stays every single time because lately, part of his heart resides in the citadel at Camelot and the rest of it seems to be wandering around on its outskirts at any given time.

Merlin ducks his head as they walk past a gaggle of Arthur’s men seated at a table near the fire discussing the day over tankards of mead. Gwaine catches him do it and finds it irresistibly funny, throws his head back and laughs before ducking his head to murmur into Merlin’s ear once more. “What’s wrong, sweetheart, don’t want princess to know you’re sneaking away at night for a bit of good-natured buggery?”

Merlin feigns offense as he climbs the narrow stairwell ahead of Gwaine, feeling the man’s eyes burning into the nape of his neck, his spine, his arse. He tosses a quip back over his shoulder: “Gwaine, _please_. I came here for a rousing discussion of...oh, I don’t know. Sword-fighting.”

Quietly, he keeps climbing, boots shuffling along the worn-wood staircase. He assumes Gwaine’s room is the one that doesn’t have one of the pub’s oh-so-charming door hangers on it that indicate the inhabitant is not to be bothered. _Yet_ , he tells himself, _it will soon_ , _surely._

Gwaine pins him against the heavy oaken door the instant they’re in front of it, calloused fingertips on his wrists as he leans in close. His breath smells like ale and his mouth is wet and warm, so close to Merlin’s own that he feels half-intoxicated on the drink himself, dizzy from Gwaine’s closeness, the firm musculature of his body under thick riding leathers, the hard length of him straining against his trousers as he grinds against Merlin’s thigh.

“Merlin, please, you’re gagging for it,” Gwaine purrs as he leans in, pressing his lips hotly to Merlin’s jaw, nipping at the smooth skin there and releasing one of Merlin’s hands to reach behind for the doorknob. “You’re a sneaky, saucy little thing and we both know why you’re here.”

Merlin closes the short distance between them, pressing his lips to Gwaine’s and hoping the kiss is enough to say without saying that they both know fucking each other half-stupid isn’t the only reason they risk this. It’s something more; it’s about mind, body _and_ heart and gods, does it feel good to be caught in Gwaine’s arms as he stumbles backwards into the newly opened doorway towards the rickety excuse for a bed.

“Gwaine, _Gwaine_ ,” Merlin murmurs over and over between kisses, in between kisses that are quick and simple before they separate to pull off another item of clothing, alternating kisses that are deep and hungry and all-consuming. “Gwaine, _please_ , I - “

“You miss me, you need me, I’m downright irresistible, I know.” Gwaine teases, tossing Merlin onto his back atop the bed, all pale skin and skinny legs. He’s thick and hard when he lets his trousers drop to the ground beside the haphazard fall of his boots and he strides towards him, easy confidence. The light of the moon catches that playful gleam in his eyes once more as he wiggles a vial of expensive-looking oil between his fingers, climbing on top of him and grinding down against him.

The friction is different skin to skin, a sharp, hot drag and Merlin licks Gwaine’s low moan out of his mouth and swallows it into his own as he fists a hand around his cock, working it in time with the thrust of Gwaine’s fingers inside of him. The oil turns out to be just as good as what Arthur has hidden in his bedside table and half as obnoxiously fragrant, making the slide of two, three fingers up to his last knuckle nothing but easy pleasure until Merlin’s curling against him in pure wanton need.

“Want it,” he gasps, more like an open-mouthed kiss against Gwaine’s neck, barely audible. His lips, his cheeks, his jaw are all tender and raw from Gwaine’s beard as he kisses all over his face and neck, lip swollen where he bites down on it as Gwaine thankfully, finally pushes inside, filling him. Thick, hard, unyielding; _unfair_ the way he snaps his hips forward sharply one second, building up a rhythm only to break it, the way he slows down until the head of his cock rubs deliciously against the spot that makes sparks erupt at the corners of Merlin’s vision. Gwaine is _good_ , gods know Merlin is well aware of it by now but it never ceases to amaze him.

“Stay,” Gwaine mumbles as he rolls off of him after they’ve finished, grabbing for him before he’s even hit the bed beside him, eager to cuddle. Merlin whispers an almost-silent spell to whisk the spatters of come off of their stomachs before Gwaine plants his arm right into it, clumsy as he’s known to be. He can’t resist the quiet chuckle that slips out when Gwaine doesn’t even flinch and thinks maybe someday, he’ll be able to tell his lover about his gift. Gwaine pulls him close, arm tossed casually over Merlin’s belly and Merlin tenses under the touch, still over-sensitive; relaxes easily when their bodies slot together again and it’s obvious Gwaine isn’t hoping for a second round anytime soon. “Hopefully we’ll wake up in time to get you back to your princess safe and sound this time, yeah?”

Merlin ducks his head under Gwaine’s chin and nuzzles into his chest. Yes, he’ll stay. He’ll always stay.


End file.
